Chapter 9

9

F reya stormed out of the library, her heart pounding in her ears, her head spinning as she still tried to catch her breath. She had to find him, she needed to grab him and demand answers. He owed her that much.

Why had he kissed her like that? And why had he run from her? None of it made sense, and she would get her answers, one way or another.

Her steps quickened as she rushed down the dim corridor, the sunlight pouring in through the windows and coating the stone walls in shades of gold. The heat rising in her cheeks wasn’t just from the kiss, or from the feel of his hands wandering her body—it was from the burning need to confront him, to force an explanation out of his perfect, insufferable mouth.

She rounded the corner, not caring where her feet carried her.

Suddenly, she collided with something—no, someone. The force of the impact sent her stumbling backward, her arms flailing as she lost her balance, and her feet kicked up in front of her. She landed hard on her arse with a gentle curse.

Groaning, she looked up. And her breath caught in her throat.

Ersie.

Freya frowned, her mind racing as she took in the other woman’s seemingly flawless appearance. Could she be the reason Doughall had left so abruptly? The thought struck her like a blow to the gut, sharp and unbidden.

In a heartbeat, Ersie was down on her knees before Freya, her emerald-green eyes wide. “Forgive me.” Her voice was frantic, worry etched on her face. “Are ye hurt? Ye didnae hit yer head, did ye?”

For a moment, Freya hesitated. Her pride bristled at the thought of accepting help from anyone, especially from the woman in front of her. She looked at her concerned face, knowing deep down that it was genuine, and sighed.

“I’m all right. Only me pride’s a wee bit bruised,” she admitted.

Maybe more than a wee bit, and not merely because of the fall.

Ersie stood up, before extending a hand. Freya took it and was pulled to her feet effortlessly, as if she weighed nothing at all. It should not have been surprising—it was clear that Ersie was strong, but still, it took her by surprise.

Freya found herself staring. How could someone so feminine be so strong?

Ersie’s eyes twinkled with amusement, as though she could read Freya’s thoughts. “Ye’re nae the first one to be surprised,” she said, her voice filled with a teasing warmth. “And I dinnae think ye will be the last, ye ken.”

Freya nodded, forcing a polite smile. “Ye must be tired of bein’ stared at.”

“I dinnae mind it so much,” Ersie replied, though that did not sound nearly as genuine. “Speakin’ of starin’—everyone’s lookin’ for ye. Did the Laird find ye already?”

Freya’s heart lurched at the mention of him, her frustration returning in full force. “Doughall,” she muttered under her breath, “is an arrogant, insufferable—” She caught herself, realizing who she was saying this to. “I didnae mean…”

“Both arenae untrue statements.” Ersie chuckled. “Dinnae worry, I willnae say a word to him. Unless ye’d like me to, then I’d be most pleased to be of service.”

Freya could not stop the small, reluctant laugh from escaping her lips. There was something disarming about Ersie, something she had not expected. Perhaps there was someone in this damn place she could get along with.

They walked in silence for a few moments, the sounds of their footsteps echoing down the hallway. Freya’s mind had returned to where it had been a while ago. The memory of that kiss would be burned into her, she was certain. It made no sense. And yet…

“Would ye care for a tour?” Ersie’s voice broke through her thoughts. “It might help clear yer head a wee bit, ye ken? And we can steal into the kitchens and find ourselves somethin’ sweet.”

Freya could not deny it, that sounded perfect. She said as much, following Ersie with a spring in her step.

Though she had briefly explored the castle alone, she had to admit that having an agreeable guide was much better. Someone who pointed out details and explained what each hall and annex and study and room was used for, offering amusing anecdotes that brought easier laughter and genuine smiles to her face.

“Turns out, ye cannae swing from those antlers… Well, ye can for about twenty seconds before ye go plummetin’ and ruinin’ everyone’s roast pheasant.” Ersie had snorted, gesturing toward the chandeliers in the feasting hall after regaling Freya with a raucous tale of a visiting southern Laird who had imbibed too much.

Freya had laughed so hard that she had almost forgotten her anger toward Doughall and his unceremonious departure from the library.

As promised, they snuck into the kitchens and managed to pluck some freshly fried fritters while the cook wasn’t looking, the delicious treats dripping in honey.

Walking side by side, Freya nibbled on her sweet and tried her hardest not to think of Doughall. But it seemed nearly impossible. Every corner they rounded, every staircase they passed by, a small part of her hoped that she would catch a glimpse of him, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Ersie broke the silence after a while, her tone casual but probing. “It’s nae me business,” she began, glancing down at Freya. “But do ye think yer braither will accept this… arrangement?”

Freya raised an eyebrow. “Why do ye ask?”

“Would he nae be cross over it? Pretendin’ in such a way?”

“I dinnae ken how he’ll react, truly, but it’ll nae be me who has to explain it. I didnae get much of a choice in the matter,” she admitted, her voice tinged with bitterness. “Doughall decided it was the best way to keep me safe, and I cannae find a position to argue.”

“Were ye tryin’ to run away when we found ye?”

Freya paused and looked at Ersie, her mind spinning. Was the man-at-arms asking this on Doughall’s behalf, or was it genuine curiosity? Could she tell Ersie the real reason why she had been far from home?

She helped save me… she deserves to ken.

Quickly, Freya reached out and grabbed Ersie’s hand, her eyes widening. “I am so truly sorry.” Her voice was hushed. “I never said thank ye for findin’ and savin’ me. I… I?—”

“Dinnae thank me yet. The job’s nae done while someone still wants ye dead.”

“The truth is, I was tryin’ to find me sister,” Freya admitted, letting go of Ersie’s hand. She started to walk again, the subject at hand making her restless almost immediately, and there was no turning back from it. “I thought I could do it on me own… to prove meself or somethin’. I… I dinnae ken what I thought I was doin’.” She let out a breath, shaking her head. “It seems I cannae do much of anythin’.”

Ersie glanced sideways at her. “I wouldnae say such a thing.”

Freya raised an eyebrow. “What do ye mean?”

“I’ve seen a change in Doughall since ye became his… charge.”

Charge.

Freya scoffed, shaking her head. “A change for the worst.”

“Nay, nae at all. He’s always been an arse, ye must ken that already. But in the last few days… I dinnae ken how to explain it. Somethin’ is different about him—a small somethin’, maybe, but it’s there.”

Freya let the words linger in her mind, though she wanted to dismiss them outright. Could he really have changed, even just a little? He seemed the same as ever—cold, hard, and entirely too sure of himself. Still, Ersie’s words niggled at her. Was it possible? Surely, this woman knew Doughall better than anyone else.

“He wasnae always like this, ye ken,” Ersie sighed.

“Oh?”

“When we were bairns, he was a wee shite who never shut up. Braggin’ and arguin’ like one of them Sassenach princelings.” She smiled at the memory, something lost and covered in a layer of dust. “He wouldnae admit it, but he cried an awful lot too. Och, if ye so much as thwacked him in the trainin’ yard, he’d start blubberin’. Or if he heard a sad story or a woeful ballad. Aye, more the latter.”

Freya stared at Ersie, wondering if this was the beginning of an elaborate joke. But the other woman seemed entirely serious, so Freya tried her best to imagine such a thing. Emotionless, cold-hearted Doughall bursting into tears over a sad tale or a beautiful piece of music? It nearly made her laugh just thinking about it. It was ridiculous. Impossible.

“What changed?”

Ersie’s smile faltered slightly, and she looked away as if weighing her words. “It’s nae me place to say it.” She frowned. “But sometimes I think he had to become like this. He didnae have too much choice either.”

Freya nodded slowly, not understanding, not completely. She wondered what had happened that changed him so, and if she could work up the courage to ask him. And if she did, would he tell her?

Ersie turned back to her. “Maybe ye’ll be able to bring his old self back.”

“I doubt it,” Freya replied, with a bite in her voice.

Perhaps Ersie had known a boy like that before, but the man was immovable.

They stepped outside into the castle’s yard, the brisk air filling Freya’s lungs as she took in the grounds around her. A group of men were training, their swords clashing with heavy thuds. The sound of steel on steel echoed through the open space, making her shudder and sending her mind back to the loch.

As they passed by, some of the men glanced at them, their expressions hardening. But Freya soon realized that it wasn’t her they were scowling at, but the woman at her side.

“They dinnae like ye, do they?” she asked softly.

Ersie blinked as if she had not noticed the annoyed stares and disdain at all. “Och, aye. Some of them despise me.”

“Why?”

She smirked. “They hate me because they fear what I could do to them. And they fear me because they all ken what I am capable of.”

Freya sighed and continued to observe the soldiers discreetly as she continued walking with Ersie, silently wishing that she could have that sort of power to wield, that even one person might be fearful of what she was capable of. That she might prove herself to be more lioness than mouse, one day, as she had tried and failed to do in her pursuit of Laura.

Alas, she knew that the worst she could do was to recite Dante’s Divine Comedy in its entirety, boring her enemies to death.

As her mind drifted to her beloved literature, she let out a quieter, sadder sigh.

Even in the library, I couldnae roar loud enough to make Doughall stay and finish the kiss he started…